


stone on the shore

by jdc15



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: And Gets One, Angst, Cheryl Blossom Needs a Hug, F/F, First Time, I mean what?, Smut, aka penelope blossom is the actual devil but we knew that already, choni, she gets more than that though, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 20:34:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13982844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdc15/pseuds/jdc15
Summary: "'No,' she says, seemingly immune to the tone of your voice that used to have the entire cheerleading squad scattering in terror. 'Look, I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you really want. But I know you need help and I’m probably the only person in this fucked-up town that will give it to you, so let me take you to Pop’s. And you can buy your own damn milkshake if you’re going to get so tragic about it.'"





	stone on the shore

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from “Overgrown” by James Blake.

You’ve never been good at talking about your emotions.

That’s why it’s so strange that you’re opening up this readily to this girl you barely know, but now that you’ve started talking you can’t seem to stop the words that flow out of you. It’s like something about her has dismantled the dam in your throat and unleashed a river of honesty and tears.

You feel exhausted once you finally stop talking and you sag lower in your chair, waiting for her to bolt away as others do. Instead, she takes your hand and tells you you’re sensational, of all things, and you’re suddenly so overcome that you’re sobbing into her shoulder before you can stop yourself.

//

She offers to drive you home later when you admit that you took an uber to the theater, and you don’t hesitate to agree even though you know it means you have to get on that death trap of a motorcycle. It’s not so bad, though, when you can wind your arms around her waist and hold tight to her body so you don’t fall. You’re used to being pushed away, rejected from physical contact, but she warns you not to let go and actually drives with one hand so she can hold on to you with the other.

She takes her time but still you wish the drive was longer; she’s so warm against you and you feel so safe—something you never would have associated with sitting on a motorcycle—that you wouldn’t complain if she decided to drive around the city for the remainder of the night.

She doesn’t, though, and you reluctantly disentangle yourself from her when she stops the bike at the entrance to your driveway. You can see your mother’s silhouette through the ivy-adorned window and you shiver a little as you hand back Toni’s helmet and run a hand through your flattened hair, the chilly spring air suddenly reaching your skin now that you’re no longer touching her.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say.

“No problem.” She’s looking at you, carefully, almost like she can tell that the last thing in the world you want to do is walk in the door and face your mother. She looks almost as uncomfortable as you feel, her leather jacket and pink hair starkly out of place against the sprawling backdrop of Thistlehouse. 

You turn to leave but her voice stops you. “Cheryl.”

You raise an eyebrow and she leans forward to rest her forearms against the handlebars. “If you ever...need anything,” she says intently. “Or a place to stay, will you let me know?”

“I don’t have your number,” you stall, hesitant because you’ve learned time and time again that accepting kindness only means you’ll be repaying it later in other ways.

“Well, that’s an easy fix,” she says, producing a pen and crumpled receipt from her bag. She scrawls a number down and presses it into your palm, her fingertips lingering at the back of your hand. “I mean it,” she says softly. “I just want to be your friend, if that’s something you want too.”

You offer her a nod and a half-smile, and it isn’t until you’ve opened the front door of the house that you hear her drive away.

//

You don’t text her but you do put her number in your phone. You save the contact as “T” because having her whole name feels somehow overwhelming, like you’d have to admit that you might feel something toward her that’s different from the fear and hostility that most people provoke in you. You used to assume the best in people before your mother beat and shamed you into hardness and animosity. Toni has somehow elicited the first flutter of life from the old version of you, the one that used to laugh and love and that you were so sure had died along with JJ.

But the idea that you could take another chance and then lose everything all over again is still too much to handle, so you squash down the feeling and leave your phone under your bed for the entire weekend.

//

By Monday morning you’ve driven yourself almost to the point of insanity because all you’ve thought about since Toni drove you home on Friday night is how you spilled your deepest secret to her without knowing her at all, and how could you possibly be so stupid?

When you arrive at school you snap at anyone who approaches you and get sent to the principal by second period for cursing at your math teacher. Toni smiles at you when you pass her in the hallway but you just shoulder by without even looking at her. Her smile falters when you fail to acknowledge her and you can feel her gaze burning a hole in your back all the way down the hall.

You feel like your whole life is suddenly coming apart at the seams and you just want someone to hate for it.

//

Principal Weatherbee chews you out for five minutes about respecting authority before he dismisses you back to class with a warning that a repeat offense will result in suspension. You’re still too twitchy to care, though, and you nearly have a heart attack when you wrench open his office door to see Toni standing outside.

“What do you want?” you snarl.

“Have I done something to you?” she asks, but there’s no anger in her tone, only concern.

Somehow, this aggravates you more than if she’d picked a fight. You take a step forward into her space until you’re almost nose-to-nose but she holds her ground, staring right back up at you with that same intense expression. It’s like she’s looking right through your defenses and shining a light on whatever lies underneath them. It feels messy and draws a lump to your throat, and you wish she’d just walk away because if she doesn’t she might just dig up more of the ghosts within you that you’re so desperate to keep buried.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Shouldn’t you be in class?” you say harshly, but still she doesn’t flinch. You want her to be angry with you, to give you a reason to hate her instead of making you feel so guilty for being mean.

“Nope. Why don’t we skip the rest of the day and go to Pop’s? I’ll buy you a milkshake.”

That does it: your pent-up anger spills over and you take another stride forward, shoving her back when you walk into her. “What, so I can owe you even more than I already do? Just tell everyone you know about what I told you, if you haven’t already. Leave me alone.”

You leave her there with her mouth hanging open and you’ve almost made it back to class when you hear hurried footsteps behind you and she cuts you off before you can disappear into the room. “You think I’d tell people what you told me?” she asks, looking simultaneously hurt and furious. “Cheryl, what do you take me for? I’m not trying to ruin your life, I just want to help you because it’s pretty obvious that you could use a friend.”

“Don’t waste your time,” you say, and try to duck past her, but she slams her hand into the wall to block your path. “Let me through,” you growl.

“No,” she says, seemingly immune to the tone of your voice that used to have the entire cheerleading squad scattering in terror. “Look, I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you really want. But I know you need help and I’m probably the only person in this fucked-up town that will give it to you, so let me take you to Pop’s. And you can buy your own damn milkshake if you’re going to get so tragic about it.”

She looks at you expectantly and you avert your eyes, feeling your shoulders slump. You curse the tears that prickle and blur your vision because you’d kill to leave this prison of a school and sit in a booth at the diner with her, but it still feels like you’re losing any semblance of control over yourself.

“We don’t even have to talk,” Toni says, and her voice is softer like it was when she drove you home from the movies and let you hold on to her, and you’re crying in earnest now. “Let’s just go somewhere other than here, okay?”

//

You’re relieved when Pop doesn’t comment on your puffy eyes or the way you’re struggling to sit upright when he comes to take your order, even though you know you look terrible. You can’t find the energy to care what people think of you right now, but you’re still glad that Toni brought you to the dimly lit booth at the very back of the diner where it’s unlikely that anyone will notice you.

“So,” Toni drawls, once Pop has left and you’ve been sat in silence for almost five minutes. “Want to explain to me why you thought I’d be telling the whole town your secrets?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh, worrying a paper napkin between your hands just to have something to do. “People like to gossip about me. I guess I just figured you would too.”

“I don’t gossip,” she says emphatically.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll hear more than enough within the week.”

“No one talks to me at school,” she scoffs. “I’m pretty sure they all think I’m a criminal. But even if I did hear anything, it wouldn’t change my opinion of you.”

“And what opinion is that?”

“I think you’re incredible,” she says simply. “With a lot of love to give, and—”

Pop reappears with their glasses and she pauses to thank him, waiting until he’s back behind the bar before resuming her sentence.

“—and I think you want to show that side of yourself to other people, but you haven’t allowed anyone to get to know you well enough to experience it.”

She stops again to take a sip of her shake and you take the moment to try and gather your thoughts from where they’re currently spinning out of control. “Why would you think that?”

She shrugs. “You came out to me in, like, our second conversation ever, just because I showed a little interest in what might be going on with you. And from what you said about your mom, it’s understandable that you would be hesitant to open up to anyone, so you shut people out and treat them badly to defend yourself from getting hurt.”

You fiddle with your glass, drawing patterns in the condensation as you try to think of a response. You can’t find any inaccuracy in what she’s said, though, so you give up and shake your head. “You’re right,” you admit. “And I’m sorry I was rude to you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Toni says. “And I get it, you know, being scared of letting people in. But if you’ll let me, I’d like to help you in any way I can. I don’t have friends at this school either, you know.”

“Oh, so all of this is just about you not wanting to look like a loser eating lunch by yourself?” you snark.

“You want to have lunch with me?” she gasps, clutching dramatically at her chest. “I thought this day would never come.” You duck your head to hide your laughter but she sees it anyway. “There’s the pretty smile,” she says, leaning back to flick her balled-up straw wrapper at you with a grin. 

You want to laugh again but instead you shake your head, your mother’s words—loveless, vacant, cold—suddenly but not unexpectedly echoing in your ears, and your smile fades.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” she backtracks, looking panicked. “I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable or think I was coming on to you or anything, I just—”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, and she falls silent. “It’s not you.”

When you don’t elaborate, she cocks her head expectantly. “What is it, then?”

“My mother.”

“Gotcha,” she nods. “Maybe sometime you can tell me more about that?”

“Maybe,” you agree. You lean back in the booth as you think about the way she took your hand after you watched the movie, and why you feel this pull to be close to her. You felt that for JJ, though it was different in nature. You never realized how cold you’d felt since his death until now, with her warmth pressed up against your side.

“I wouldn’t mind, you know,” you say eventually.

“Mind what?” she asks distractedly, busy picking away at a chip in the tabletop.

“If you were coming on to me,” you say, and now it’s your turn to smirk as she stammers and knocks her phone onto the floor.

//

You feel lighter than you have in months, and you’re still smiling when you enter Thistlehouse hours later after Toni drives you home and hugs you goodbye. You have plans to shut yourself in your room and daydream until you fall asleep but you don’t even make it to the staircase before your mother is blocking your path.

“Who was that?” Penelope pries.

“Who was what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Cheryl,” she warns and you shrink back reflexively. “I saw you drive up with someone. It was that awful Serpent girl, wasn’t it?”

“She’s not awful,” you argue immediately, and the words are barely out of your mouth before her hand flies toward you and you’re knocked off balance by the force of the slap against your cheek.

“I don’t want you near her, do you understand?” Penelope hisses, and you clench your jaw.

Your face is burning but you refuse to show even a moment of weakness to her, so your hands remain balled into fists behind your back. “I understand,” you grind out through your teeth.

“Good,” your mother says. “If I see her again or hear that you’ve been with her, you will regret it.”

She stalks away and you take the stairs two at a time, desperate to hold in your tears until you make it to your room. You stopped letting yourself cry in front of her a long time ago.

You stack your pillows into a pile and crawl beneath them as you always do, curling as small as possible as you pray for sleep to take you.

//

You regret not icing your face the next morning; there’s a large bruise forming and you use up almost half a tube of concealer trying to make it less noticeable. You cake your foundation on heavier than usual and just hope that no one will look close enough at you to see it.

You shouldn’t be surprised that Toni isn’t fooled for a second, though.

“What happened to your face?” she whispers as she falls into step with you on the way into the school building.

“Nothing,” you say shortly, glancing around to see if anyone is watching. No one seems to be paying you any attention but you speed up anyway, Toni breaking into a jog to keep up with your longer stride. “I have to get to class.”

“Cheryl—damn it, slow down. I’m too short for this shit.”

You ignore her and take an abrupt turn into your English classroom, hearing her huff of frustration when she’s left behind at the door. You take your seat and struggle to focus on your work instead of dwelling on your mother’s words, because you feel as though you’re right back at the edge of unraveling.

// 

Later, Toni’s waiting right outside the door when the bell rings for the last class of the day and she grabs the strap of your backpack before you can slip away. “Wait up.”

“Let go of me,” you snap, but she doesn’t; instead she all but drags you out to the parking lot and deposits you at your car. It’s starting to rain, the drops cold and heavy against your skin.

“We’re friends now,” she says simply, impervious to your glare as she bundles you into the passenger seat and wrestles your keys away. “No more running.”

You cross your arms petulantly as she starts the car and backs out of the lot, torn between reaching for her hand and throwing yourself out of the vehicle onto the rough pavement below. The vestiges of your fear and your mother’s harsh words are still hovering in the back of your mind, keeping you so on edge that you clench your jaw tightly to keep it inside, but then she’s reaching out her hand to you again and your fragile blockades come down and it’s exhausting, going in circles with the same causes and the same reactions every single time.

You start to wonder just how many times you can push Toni away before she’ll stop coming back.

//

She doesn’t show any signs of wanting to leave. Quite the opposite, actually; she holds your hand over the gearshift, her skin warm and a little bit damp from the rain. She rubs her thumb over the back of your hand and you let your eyes drift shut, losing yourself in her presence and the song playing low on the radio.

“Where are we even going?” you ask finally.

“Nowhere in particular. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?” you ask wearily.

“Look, I’m not going to pressure you,” she begins. “But I really think you should try to talk to a professional. You’ve been through so much and you need to be able to process it with someone who will handle it properly.”

“Therapy?” You pull your hand away from her and stuff it in your pocket. Your fears that she doesn’t want to know anything about you come rushing back all at once.

As if she’s read you mind, she adds quickly, “Not that you can’t tell me things, because you can. I’m here for you and I’m not going to leave because of anything you say. I just thought—” She throws you a somewhat nervous glance before continuing, “Jughead told me about what happened at Sweetwater River. When you...fell in.”

Shame washes over you like a wave and you curl into yourself, turning away to hide your face against the window. “I don’t feel that way anymore,” you mumble into the cold glass.

“That doesn’t make what happened go away,” Toni says gently, as she pulls over and cuts the engine. “If you never talk about it, how is anything ever going to get better?”

You don’t answer but you do look at her for a long time, searching her face and her eyes for a sign of betrayal, manipulation, anything that might align with the way others treat you. She sits quietly and lets you look until you turn away, because you find nothing and you don’t know whether you feel relieved or frustrated for it.

You turn fully toward her and realize that the rain and your tears must have washed away enough of the makeup on your face for the bruise to reappear, if the way she gasps a little and reaches out for you is any indication. Her fingertips trace lightly over your skin and you can’t even help it; you close your eyes and lean in to her hand, the warmth of it spreading all through your body. You sigh and she breathes out come here, pulling you closer until your head is tucked under her chin.

She keeps you there for a while and you can hear her heartbeat where your ear is pressed against her chest, almost steady enough to lull you to sleep. She’s so soft; you haven’t had a girl hold you like this since Heather left and you can’t believe you almost forgot what it felt like.

You want more, though, so you push yourself off of her and pull back just enough to see her face. “Is this okay?” you whisper. You’re so close to her that you can feel her breath on your face, shallow and nervous.

She just nods and dips her head to catch your lips, kissing you sweet and close-mouthed. She goes slowly, one of her hands still cupping your jaw and the other holding your elbow while you cling desperately to her jacket.

You feel clumsy and out of practice when you run your tongue over her bottom lip, but she doesn’t hesitate to open her mouth to you so you must not be that bad. She sighs into you and presses closer, her hand on your arm moving into your hair and her nails scratching lightly behind your ear in a way that makes you shiver.

It’s the best kiss you’ve ever had, without question; you and Heather were fourteen and sloppy, and the only other people you’ve kissed since her were high school boys, and they never gave you an experience to write home about. Toni kisses attentively and her hands never stop, skating over your face, neck, arms, until you’re starting to feel lightheaded from it.

You can hear the rain beating on the roof and the pop song on the radio and her unsteady breathing, and it feels like you’re finally waking up. Maybe you hadn’t fully resurfaced from that river until now; you’d perceived everything through a screen before her fingertips touched your skin and now everything you’re feeling is magnified tenfold. 

It almost turns into too much so you break away and bury your face in her shoulder, pressing your smile into her neck and winding your arms around her tiny waist to hold her tight.

You don’t let go until later, once you’ve collected yourself and the gearshift is starting to get uncomfortable where it’s digging in to your ribs. You insist on driving her home and she doesn’t argue, just kisses you soft and slow when you pull up to her uncle’s trailer and then disappears behind the heavy sheets of rain.

//

The following three weeks are some of the best days of your life. Toni doesn’t pressure you but she doesn’t put up with any of your bullshit either, and each day that passes finds you more comfortable with her than the last. She listens and asks questions and holds you when you cry while telling her about losing Jason, your parents’ household, Nick St. Clair, and even the day you fell lower than you ever had, enough to break through the ice of Sweetwater River and come face-to-face with what you were becoming. 

She offers to get you a job bartending with her at the Whyte Wyrm once you turn eighteen so you’ll be able to afford to see a better psychologist than the school counselor—the idea of asking your mother for money to see a therapist is laughable—and you agree even though the idea of telling anyone else your secrets sends you into a near panic. You want to make her proud, even if that means facing the darkest parts of yourself.

She kisses you all the time but doesn’t ever ask for more, and you believe her when she tells you she just likes spending time with you. It’s been nearly four years since you lost Heather, and this is the first time you feel like the wounds left from that time in your life might actually have an opportunity to heal.

//

You should have known it was too good to last long, however. After all, you are Cheryl Blossom, and the universe has a soft spot for fucking you over.

You make the mistake of kissing Toni in the middle of your driveway when she drops you off, so distracted by her lips and the feel of her hair between your fingers that you don’t realize your mistake until you’re met with your mother’s wrath before you even have a chance to close the front door behind you.

“Heather wasn’t enough?” she spits once she’s successfully forced you to the floor. “The way she left you? You’re not capable of love, Cheryl. You never will be.”

The back of her hand punctuates each statement against your jaw and you close your eyes, willing yourself to hold your tongue. None of this is new to you, but somehow every strike of her hands and her words feel sharper, undoubtedly a result of the way you’ve become alive again over the past weeks. 

For the first time you can feel the pain in your body, just like you can feel Toni’s fingertips tracing your collarbones and her mouth leaving pale lipstick stains on your neck. You can hear your mother growl no one will ever care about you just like you can hear Toni say you look beautiful and c’mere and kiss me. 

Everything is amplified—the good and the bad—but if this is the price of love, you’ll take it.

//

You wait until Penelope has stumbled off toward the liquor cabinet before you escape to your room, retrieving your school bag and anything else you can stuff into it with shaking hands, and then slip out the back door before she can find you again. 

You walk half a mile down the road before calling an uber to take you to the south side, your sunglasses thankfully hiding the majority of your face from your driver’s eyes. He gives you a look of concern when you step out and nearly topple over, but you just wave him off and he drives away without further ado.

As soon as you knock on the door of the trailer it hits you that you hadn’t thought to text her first, and it’s entirely possible that her uncle could answer the door. You doubt he’d take kindly to a Blossom arriving on his doorstep at midnight, and you’re turning to leave when there’s a call of who is it? from inside, and you almost collapse against the door in relief when you recognize the voice.

“It’s me,” you say, and the door opens immediately.

“Cheryl, what—oh, fuck,” she gapes, her confused expression turning in to one of shock. “Shit, come in.”

She ushers you inside and locks the door behind you, reaching up at once to tuck your hair behind your ear. She looks simultaneously worried and murderous as she asks, “Did your mother do this to you?” You nod, and she closes her eyes. “I’ll kill her.”

She takes your hand and you follow her blindly into the bathroom, allowing her to guide you onto the edge of the tub, the cool porcelain assuaging the heat burning beneath your skin. She opens the medicine cabinet and you can see her hands shaking as she searches through it. She produces ibuprofen and a bottle of water and shakes two of the tiny pills out into your palm. You throw them back and then press the water to your aching jaw, wincing at the sting.

“I’m going to take your makeup off, okay?” Toni whispers, and when you nod she places a soft hand on the back of your neck and dabs a cleansing wipe over your face. She’s gentle and you can feel your breathing ease as the grime and pain of the day is lifted from your skin. You can almost taste the anger emanating from her as she cleans the concealer away, but she sighs and drops a kiss to your forehead when you reach up to grasp her forearm. “Wait here for a second,” she instructs, and you do as you’re told.

She reappears in seconds to hold a package of frozen peas to your cheek until the bag is melting, and then pats you dry, careful not to press too hard. She drops the peas to the floor and takes a seat beside you, folding you under her arm and holding you close.

“Thank you,” you say finally, your voice coming out raspy when you lean in to her side and bury your face in her shirt. “Can—can I stay with you for a little while?”

“You can stay as long as you need,” she hushes into the hair at the top of your head. “Please just don’t go back there.”

//

She supplies you with clothes and a toothbrush and you change as quickly as possible, anxious to be near her again. When you emerge she doesn’t comment on your messy hair or the way her sweatpants are a few inches too short on you, only reaches out a hand to invite you closer.

“Do you want me to stay here?” she asks. “I can crash in the living room if you want space.”

“Please stay,” you mumble as you take her hand and let her pull you close, and she sighs in relief.

“Good. I don’t want to leave you by yourself.” She scoots back so you can climb into bed next to her, helping you rearrange the mountain of blankets and pillows. “Do you need anything?”

In lieu of answering, you tuck yourself into her body and she cuddles you close. Your life is as messy as it’s ever been, but here with your face against her collarbone and her arm curled protectively around your ribs, you feel safe enough to sleep.

//

Waking up is disorienting for a moment until you register the warmth against your back and remember where you are. Toni’s hand is held between both of yours, and you raise it to your lips to press a lingering kiss to the back of it. She’s still asleep and you take a moment to observe the room, the early-morning sun streaming through the open blinds too bright to allow you back to sleep.

There are live plants on almost every surface, clearly well-cared for with bright green leaves and vibrantly colored flowers. You wouldn’t have guessed she had such a green thumb, but now you can’t help but admit that it fits her. The dresser is topped with a garden of no less than twenty mini-succulents, and the room is much neater than you would have expected; there’s nothing cluttering the floor and every item on her desk is in its place.

You want to keep learning about her, and you want to let her keep surprising you. You’re struck with a rush of affection and gratitude and you turn to face her, nudging your nose against hers and kissing her softly when she begins to stir.

“Hey,” she sighs. The sunlight dapples her face as it shines through the sheer curtains, and it makes her looks so beautiful that you can’t help but lean down to kiss her again. Her fingers play with the wispy hairs at the back of your neck, each gentle tug sending a spark through you and between your legs. You rock into her and slip your tongue into her mouth, suddenly desperate for touch in a way you hadn’t realized in the first month of being with her.

“Cheryl,” she pants, when you reach for the hem of her shirt. “Wait—are you okay?”

You hum an affirmative against her lips but she pulls back again anyway. “I want to keep going, but don’t you want to talk about what happened?”

“Later,” you say. “Right now I don’t want to think about it. I just want to be here with you.”

Honestly, the last thing you want to do is talk. You’ve done so much of that recently and you’re getting better at it every time, but it’s starting to run you dry. That hidden part of you that she’s been steadily rebuilding has fully woken, and you’re desperate for a feeling you remember from years ago.

“You’re really sure?” she breathes, and you don’t hesitate to kiss her soundly in response, dipping your tongue back into her mouth and tangling a hand in her hair.

“I want you,” you murmur, and she needs no further convincing; her hand grips the back of your thigh and draws it over her hips, inviting you to grind against her.

You reach for her shirt again and this time she lets you drag it all the way off. She isn’t wearing anything underneath and you falter at the sight of her bare chest, reaching forward tentatively until you can cup her breasts in your hands. You explore them gently, watching her eyes flutter shut and her mouth fall open when you tug a nipple between your thumb and forefinger.

You get impatient before too long so you lean down and take the other nipple into your mouth, guided by ancient muscle memory and a desire to make her yours. She gasps and shudders under you, and you can’t help but feel a bit smug that you’ve barely started and she’s already in the palm of your hand.

She tugs at your shirt after a few minutes and you raise your arms obediently for her to slip it over your head, dropping it somewhere behind her and tucking your hair back behind your ears. Her hand cups your jaw gently as she leans in to kiss you again, pressing her thigh between your legs until you gasp into her mouth.

“Lie back,” she whispers, and you do as she says. She catches your lips again as her hands cover your chest and you whine into her, hips bucking involuntarily when she pinches your nipple gently.

“Is that good?” she asks, and when you nod, she ducks down to replace her fingers with her mouth. Your eyes slam shut and you moan her name, locking your legs behind hers to bring her closer to you. She leaves kisses over every inch of your chest until you’re squirming beneath her, and only then does she nose her way down your stomach until she reaches the waistband of your pants.

She raises an eyebrow and you don’t hesitate to lift your hips so she can remove your last piece of clothing, and then you’re fully naked but you don’t feel nervous like you thought you would. You trust her without a second thought when she settles between your thighs, so hungry for her touch that you let your legs fall open to accommodate her. 

She shifts back a bit and lifts your leg just high enough to kiss the inside of your knee, watching as you bite your lip and grasp the bedsheets beside your head. “Do you want me to keep going?”

“Please don’t stop,” you groan, not even caring at this point how embarrassingly turned on you appear. She plants her forearms on either side of you and leans down for a kiss, swallowing the gasp that escapes you when she finally dips her hand between your legs.

She goes slowly, drawing lazy circles as you kiss her desperately. Whatever magic her hand is working has you already closer than you’d like to admit, but your ability to speak has disappeared so you just let it happen. You can feel her gaze warming your face so you open your eyes again to look at her, and she smiles immediately before slipping her hand lower and cocking her head in question.

You nod and then she’s moving inside you, and it might be the most incredible thing you’ve ever felt. She’s gentle and sweet, moving slowly with one finger as she kisses you, her free hand returning to your chest. She adds a second finger after a moment and you moan at the stretch, hoping you aren’t pulling her hair too hard as you’re rapidly losing control over your motor skills.

Her thumb comes up to focus on your clit while she maintains her slow thrusting and you feel something begin to unfurl in your belly, stealing your breath as it grows. She kisses you deeply and you can hear her panting in your ear; she’s as desperate as you are to see you fall apart.

You wrap your arms around her back until your chests press together and then you’re coming with a heaving breath, your body curling around her. Your brain shuts off and your back arches and she kisses you all the way through it, her lips warm and pliant against yours.

When you finally break through, you melt into her, dropping your forehead to her shoulder and shivering as she removes her hand. Your brain reboots slowly; you feel as though you’ve just been reset. 

“So that was good, I assume?” she teases, once you’ve caught your breath enough to kiss her again.

“Yes,” you say with a wink, already flipping her onto her back. “Now stop talking, and let me blow your mind.”

//

It isn’t until almost midday that you exhaust each other; you’d kill for a pancake at this point so you tell her you’re buying her breakfast, and she just looks at you, dopey and grinning, and you feel something in your chest start to expand.  


Between being legally free of your mother in less than two weeks, and armed with a girl who’s proving to you that she’s here to stay, things are finally starting to get better.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please let me know if you enjoyed xx


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